Watcher
by Carinthe
Summary: When she notices the stranger on the other side of the road, waiting for something, she can't help but feel intrigued.


_AN: Just a little fic from a few years ago that I found when cleaning up my hard drive. I'm sure it's been done before (and better). Based on a true story (actually, the first 459 words are)…_

_Disclaimer: As you might have guessed, I don't own anything: Early Edition, its characters and all related entities are the property of CBS and Sony/Tristar. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made._

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**Watcher**

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She was washing the windows when she first noticed him.

He was standing on the other side of the road, a bit downhill from her apartment, huddled against the early winter's cold.

From her perch at the second floor, she had a nice view of him, and because he didn't look up, she enjoyed it for a bit longer than she probably should. He looked unmistakably cute, but in a masculine sort of way.

His facial features were not too sharp or too pronouncedly macho, but rather soft and rounded. A somewhat boyish face, with looks that were very pleasing to the eye without ranking among supermodel status. Topped by mussed-up dark hair that just demanded to be smoothed gently by a woman's hand…

Icy soapy water dripped from the sponge into her sleeve and with a muttered curse she focussed on her work again.

When she stole another glance before picking up the drying cloth, he was still there. Watching the street intently in both directions. He took a long look at his watch, and she figured he was waiting for someone.

Maybe his girlfriend. His mom to take her shopping? A friend to visit a pub? A drug dealer to replenish his supplies…?

No, not the latter one, surely.

He didn't look like a junkie to her.

An off-white pullover under a brown leather jacket, comfortable hiking shoes and dark blue jeans fitting him quite nicely, she noticed as he briefly turned the other way.

Suddenly, she hoped he wasn't waiting for his girlfriend.

Completely irrational, she was well aware of that.

It wasn't as if he was down there waiting for her to run downstairs and into his arms, to live happily ever after.

He wasn't waiting for the mysterious other half of his soul, directed by a loony old gypsy to her porch.

But for a few seconds, the what-if speculation was very nice.

Than she noticed her window had already dried up by itself, resulting in ugly stripes where rivulets of dirty water had been running, and she plunged the sponge into the bucket with slightly more force than was warranted.

After another round of soaping, rinsing and drying, she couldn't stop herself from looking for him again. Half hoping he was gone, so she could move on with her cleaning…

But he was still standing there, now walking up and down and blowing his hands to get warm.

Unexpectedly she felt a stab of anger. How she'd love to tell off the woman who kept him waiting in the cold for so long. How she didn't deserve this sweet gentle man.

She laughed at herself. Silly to starts drawing such far-fetching conclusions based on only having seen the guy for a few minutes…

Suddenly, she remembered her grocery list.

Damn, her mom would come over later that evening (hence the cleaning spree…) and she should really get some of her favourite tea before the small shop on the corner closed.

In the rush of changing out of her old clothes, finding the grocery list and the keys, she forgot all about the man. Only just before she opened the front door, she remembered and was surprised how giddy she suddenly felt.

If he was still standing there, she'd have to walk straight past him…

Fumbling the keys into her purse, she didn't take notice of her surroundings.

A loud screeching sound made her look up sharply, just in time to see a huge Mercedes crash against a parked car and sliding in her direction.

Time seemed to slow down.

She was acutely aware of the danger, but couldn't move in time.

Then, time sped up again, something hit her and threw her on the curb.

She never remembered the impact, only the waking up.

Looking into two compassionate mud puddle green eyes.

Her thoughts were hazy, and the most prominent was that he looked even cuter in close proximity than from two floors up.

Then, more people gathered around her, asked questions, called for medical help.

And she lost sight of him in the crowd.

By the time the ambulance arrived, she had come fully back to her senses, pleased to find nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises.

The paramedics however were adamant that she went with them anyway, 'to make sure you're really OK', and she eventually relented.

But no one could tell them where the mysterious stranger had gone, the hero who had pushed her out of harm's way…

She wished she had had the change to thank him for saving her life.

She guessed he was a quiet unassuming guy not needing or wanting to bask in congratulations and presents. Maybe he would have blushed prettily and told her quietly that she was welcome. Maybe she would have dared to peck his cheek. And just maybe, they could have become friends.

Mud puddle green eyes features in her dreams a lot the next weeks, but eventually real life demanded all of her attention again.

The accident faded to the back of her mind, and fortunately so did the nightmares about it.

She went on with her life, on the second floor of her little apartment building on the outskirts of Chicago.

But every time she went out to get tea, she kept an eye out for dangerously manoeuvring cars.

And every time she washed her windows, her eyes strayed to the spot where one day Fate had made a stranger wait to save her life…


End file.
